by Rebecca Deel
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
About the Author
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
About the Author
MIDNIGHT RENDEZVOUS
Rebecca Deel
Editor: Jack Williams
Cover Design by Melody Simmons
Copyright © 2015 Rebecca Deel
All rights reserved.
To my amazing husband.
CHAPTER ONE
“Sit down, Remy.” Brent Maddox settled back in his leather office chair. “How’s the arm?”
Remy Doucet’s eyebrow rose. His boss wasn’t one to shoot the breeze, especially an hour before dawn. Even the birds weren’t stirring yet. He wished he wasn’t. “Doctor’s report hasn’t changed since yesterday afternoon. I’m cleared for duty.” He’d gotten too close to a butterfly knife on an op a month earlier. Sweet knife. He’d rescued the weapon from the punk who wielded it with less than stellar skill. The wanna-be thug wouldn’t be needing it in prison. “You didn’t drag me to Fortress headquarters before Starbucks opens to check on my health. What’s up?”
“Called home lately?”
Every muscle in Remy’s body tightened. “What happened? Is my family okay?” Why would his family call Brent? Remy made sure his parents and siblings had his cell number. They knew to leave a message if he didn’t answer.
Brent held up his hand. “Sorry. They’re fine as far as I know. The op I’m sending you and your partner on is in your family’s neck of the woods.” He paused. “Swamp.”
“Bayou.”
“Whatever. Mosquitos the size of birds, right?”
Remy chuckled. “Not quite that large, but the volume makes up for the lack of size. What about my partner?”
“Not a mosquito and will be here soon. I’d rather cover the details once.” He motioned to his coffee maker in the far corner of the office. “It’s not Starbucks, but it’s hot.”
“I’ll take it.” Remy poured himself a steaming mug and sipped the black brew. He manfully held back a shudder as the bitter liquid hit his taste buds. His boss excelled at many things. Making coffee wasn’t one of them. After drinking half, he refilled the mug and downed more. By the time he’d drained the mug, his brain cells were finally firing enough for him to realize his inquiry about the partner had been sidestepped. He turned, planning to pin down the identity of his mysterious partner when a door closed nearby. No point in pestering his boss now. Just as long as his new partner wasn’t G.I. Jane, he was good. He considered himself pretty easy going. That pint-sized woman, though, always had him tied up in knots. Fortress Security, however, was a big outfit and growing larger every day. What were the odds the miniature Barbie doll was going to walk through Brent’s door?
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of his mysterious partner. The office door swung open and in walked the woman who populated his every sweet dream. Now if only the real-life version was as amenable to his attentions as the one in his dreams. Yeah, a man could wish. The woman who starred in his fantasies of the perfect future but with serious attitude, Lily Stanton, also known as G.I. Jane, was as friendly as a porcupine with him. Don’t know what he’d done to get on her bad side, but he’d have to find a way to work with her. Hey, maybe he’d grow on her.
Her blue-eyed gaze swept over him in a wave and shifted to Brent. Huh. No expression of any kind on her face. Disappointment pricked at his heart. So much for growing on her. The way things looked, he’d be lucky if she tolerated being under his command.
Brent stood. “Lily, sit down, please. Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll get it,” Remy murmured. “Cream, sugar?”
“Black.”
Of course. Strong woman like Lily could handle Brent’s toxic coffee. He saluted her and gave an easy smile. Grabbing another mug, he poured and delivered it with a bow. Her lips twitched. Well, look at that. Barbie had a sense of humor. He could work with that. In his book, a sense of humor counted for a lot more than looks although Lily could rival Miss Louisiana any day of the week. She would have been a sure bet if she had grown about ten inches taller and unless he planned for a face plant, he wouldn’t be sharing that detail.
He dragged his attention away from the short, blond-haired dynamo seated next to him. “What have we got?”
“Missing persons case. No ransom demand yet. Probably just a matter of time since the family is very wealthy, very powerful.”
“Who is missing?” Lily asked. “A child?”
“Wife.” Brent slid each of them a manila folder. “Vic’s name is Christine Wilder.”
Remy froze, adrenaline pumping into his system by the bucket. His skin practically crawled with the need to do something. How could this have happened? James had enough money to buy entire countries. He should have had top-notch security. Remy had trusted him to keep Christine safe.
“Remy?” Brent’s softly spoken inquiry didn’t negate the command in his voice. “You know her?”
“Both of them. I haven’t seen or talked to them in more than a dozen years.” He turned his face toward his boss and a wide-eyed Lily. “They still live in Oak Hill?”
“Yeah.” Brent sighed. “Makes sense now why Wilder insisted you work the case. Look, Remy, maybe I should send someone else in wit
h Lily. Just thought it made sense for a hometown boy to visit his folks and bring his girlfriend home to meet his mother.”
At that, Lily’s head jerked around to stare at Brent. “Girlfriend?”
“Seemed the most logical approach. We can’t chance alerting possible kidnappers to operatives looking into an abduction. Wilder refused to call in the cops and is afraid he’s under constant surveillance.” He returned his attention to Remy. “Can you handle this?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded thicker than normal because of the tight muscles in his throat. Fear for Christine beat through his body. He’d been on numerous missions to rescue hostages or kidnap victims while working for Fortress. He didn’t want to think about what his old flame might be going through. If he did, he’d lose his effectiveness. He was going to find her, get her away from her captors if she’d been taken, return her to James, then read him the riot act for not protecting her better.
“Lily, you on board?” Brent asked.
A glance at Remy with those incredible blue eyes. “I’m in.”
“Good. Let’s get started.”
Lily strode through the outer office with Remy Doucet hot on her heels. She thought through the non-answers the Cajun had supplied their boss about Christine Wilder. To her, his reticence indicated some strong feelings for their kidnapping victim. Would it compromise his judgment? She didn’t know him well enough to have an answer to that, but the emotional connection concerned her. Would he think or simply react?
Remy cared a lot for his family and friends. The rumor mill at Fortress was filled with stories about Remy going to the wall for a teammate on the job and off. She figured Christine Wilder had played an important role in his past, maybe an old girlfriend. If the connection was that obvious to her, why hadn’t Brent Maddox picked up on the strong emotions Remy was hiding? And worse yet, why was he in charge of this op? Yeah, he was the senior operative, but his objectivity was compromised and that called into question his decision-making ability.
She shoved open the glass door leading to the parking lot. She’d been part of this organization for eighteen months. How long did she have to work for Fortress before she was no longer considered a rookie? Maybe Brent didn’t trust her. Even worse, what if Remy didn’t? How effective could she be if her partner wasn’t confident in her ability to cover his back? That thought twisted her stomach into a knot and forced her to consider that she wanted him to trust her on the job and off.
“Where’s the fire?”
The smoky voice that slipped into her dreams without permission sent a shiver cascading down her back. She skirted the rock wall separating the parking lot from the building grounds. “Brent indicated we should leave immediately.”
“True. Doesn’t mean we have to run a race to the airport. Be faster if we drive.” Amusement laced his tone.
Lily stopped, pivoted to face Remy. “That’s what I’d planned. My car’s over there.” She motioned to her vehicle. “I’ll follow you.”
“First off, there’s no point taking two vehicles when we’re going to the same place. Second, I’d have to fold myself in half to fit in your car. Third, even if I could scrunch into the seat without hurting myself, no way I’m riding in that tin can in Nashville traffic, even at this early hour. Fourth, I doubt you have room for all our gear in your vehicle.” He smiled. “We’ll take my SUV.”
She looked at her car, the candy apple red Beetle that she loved so much. Looked at the six foot plus man standing beside her. Sighed. Yep, he was right. He couldn’t fit in her car without his knees being up under his chin. “Which one is yours?”
He nodded at the full-sized Yukon three spaces beyond her Beetle. She clenched her jaws shut. Of course he didn’t have running boards. She’d need a step ladder or a running start to scramble into his vehicle. Either way, Lily knew she would look like a kid trying to get in the large vehicle and wished for the millionth time that her parents, whoever they were, had contributed a tall gene to her genetic mix.
“I’ll get my gear.” She unlocked her trunk and grabbed her duffel bag and computer case. Remy reached past her to haul her weapons bag from the vehicle. “I can get it.”
“Sure. But I’m here and my mom would be disappointed if I didn’t act like a gentleman with my girlfriend.”
Lily scowled. “You better not treat me like I’m a southern belle, Doucet.”
“Wouldn’t think of it, Stanton. You are far from helpless, but that doesn’t mean I won’t treat you with respect.”
An intense stare to gauge his sincerity, then she gave a nod. He seemed to mean what he said. Closing her trunk, Lily locked her car and trailed her new partner to the monstrosity he drove. He placed her weapons bag next to his own in the backseat and stashed her duffel and computer bag on the floorboard. That done, Remy opened the front passenger door for her.
“Watch your head.”
Between one breath and the next, Remy had plucked her off the asphalt and settled her in the shotgun seat. A quick slam of the door and he was rounding the front of the SUV.
After he settled behind the wheel and cranked the engine, Lily said, “That wasn’t necessary.”
“I’ll rent an SUV with running boards when we reach New Orleans. And don’t say it’s not necessary again. You’ll just tick me off.”
She clamped her mouth shut because that had been her first instinctive response to the help. She’d been taking care of herself for a long time.
The trip across the city to John C. Tune airport passed in silence with occasional glances at her companion. He drove with skill, relaxed but alert, always a good thing when driving in and around Nashville. The sun was beginning to lighten the sky from black to pewter gray when they climbed the Lear’s stairs. The pilot greeted them and continued on with his pre-flight checklist. Fifteen minutes later, the pilot announced they were ready for takeoff.
Once the plane was airborne, Remy unbuckled and twisted in his seat to face her. “Time to talk, Lily.”
“About?”
“Anything your boyfriend should know.” He paused. “Do I have a real rival for your affections? If I do, tell me now so I can watch my back.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Remy remained silent a moment. “All right. What should your boyfriend know about you?”
“I’m a coffee addict and I hate pizza.”
He stared. “Hating pizza is close to sacrilege, Stanton. Family?”
“None.”
“Sorry to hear that. You missed out on a lot of fun growing up. Education?”
“Couple years of college.”
“Favorite movie?”
“Sahara.”
He laughed. “You serious?”
“Got a problem with it?”
“Figured you’d pick a chick flick.”
Amusement sparking through her system, Lily grinned. “Good to know I can surprise you.”
“Favorite books?”
“Romantic suspense and paranormal romance.”
“Music?”
“Country for driving around town, rock for workouts.”
“Favorite color?”
“Black when I’m working, purple when I’m not.”
“What’s something not many people know about you?”
“I’m teaching myself to play the piano.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Huh. Any good?”
“Nope. But I’m having fun.” She folded her arms over her stomach. “Your turn. What should I know about you?”
“I eat anything that doesn’t eat me first. Food could be scarce at times around the Doucet household. I’m a connoisseur of good coffee, scraped enough money together for two years of college, then joined the NYPD.”
“Your favorite movie?”
“The Terminator.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Of course. Books?”
“Anything by John Sandford and Lee Child.”
“Music?”
“Same as yours, plus some
good zydeco. Love anything blue, black when I’m working.”
“And something no one else knows about you?”
Remy’s face drained of all expression.
“No welshing, Doucet. You know about my horrendous attempts to play music. Now what’s your secret?”
A deep breath, then, “I build miniature doll houses.”
Lily blinked. “Doll houses? Like a three-bedroom house with a white picket fence?” She always wanted a doll house when she was a kid. Never happened for her. Foster kids weren’t a priority in most of the homes she’d been housed in over the years. By the time she hit 13, Lily had given that dream up, along with most of her other ones.
“Actually, I just finished a replica of the White House.”
“Why make doll houses?”
“It’s fun and uses skills I learned when I was growing up. All the Doucet boys learned to make things or we simply did without. Mom and Dad did the best they could, but they had six boys to feed.” He chuckled. “Believe me, we were eating machines. If we wanted a chair or table or shelves, stuff made with wood, we learned to make it ourselves.”
“Good grief! Six of you?”
“Oh, yeah. Andre’s the oldest, then Charles, Emile, Noel, and Pierre.” He grinned. “I’m the second oldest.”
“You’re from New Orleans?”
“About an hour away. I’m from Oak Hill, like the Wilders. You?”
“Nashville street rat.” Literally, after she turned 16.
Her cell phone buzzed. After a glance at the screen, she opened her emails. The latest email was from Brent, a copy of the Wilder file. Another email in her inbox had her frowning. Elaine Higgins. She didn’t know anyone by that name. A glance at Remy showed her he was scanning his own emails, probably reading the Wilder file, something she should be doing.
So what did Elaine Higgins want? Lily clicked on the email and scanned the first line. Stopped. Read it again, shock jolting through her system. This had to be a joke, one with the worst possible taste.
“Lily?”
How had this woman tracked her down? She made it a point to stay off social media and away from the newsies. Probably some con artist trying to scam her. Right? Tension tightened her throat so that she could barely breathe. Maybe it was a mix-up, some other Lily Stanton. Right, like she believed in coincidences.
